


This and this and this

by GracefulRavenFeathers



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Angst, Blood, Death, Hurt No Comfort, Last Goodbye, M/M, Trojan War, Yes it Is, is this just a dramatic retelling of Patroclus’ death with added angst?, no beta we die like men, song of Achilles wrecked me, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracefulRavenFeathers/pseuds/GracefulRavenFeathers
Summary: Some of Patroclus’ last moments. He lives just long enough to see his beloved one more time.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 152





	This and this and this

The moment his helmet falls off, Patroclus knows he is doomed. He takes off like a startled deer, desperately trying to get back to the beach, but he knows in his bones that he won’t make it. He stumbles, and that is when Hector finds him. he tries to dodge, to escape his fate, but all he can see is his pitiful reflection in Hector’s golden breast plate.

Hector’s spear comes down in slow motion. In fact, Patroclus feels the entire world slow to a snail’s pace. His mind wanders, even as his arms come up to weakly protect his face. He remembers the race where he first saw Achilles, his golden hair crown with the laurels and his flawless complexion flushed with the exercise. He remembers the hearing Achilles play his mother’s liar, the beautiful melody that entranced him. He remembers the day on the beach, riding on Chiron‘s back, picking figs for Achilles’ birthday, lying together in the shade. This and this and this and—

The spear enters Patroclus his abdomen with a wet  _ Schlick  _ that he swears can be heard across the battlefield. In his periphery, he sees Odysseus turn with wide eyed horror at the sound. But his gaze is focused on Hector, still standing over him. The oldest is prince of Troy’s eyes hold a million emotions. But strangely Patroclus can’t quite feel the pain. It’s there, buzzing just at the edge of his senses. Shock, as he learned from Chiron all those years ago. He wonders where the old center is now, what he is doing, if he’s found new innocent heroes-to-be to train. He still considers him to be more of a father than any other.

The pain hits. Patroclus screams, hoarse and raw and agonized. It rings out across the field, and several things happen at once: Hector reclaims his spear, tearing it from Patroclus’ a stomach and doubling the fiery pain. Men, both Greek and Trojan, rush toward them, obviously to fight over his body. And he realizes his death will be slow and agonizing, that the spearhead hadn’t pierced the organs—he would die from blood loss or infection instead.

Patroclus drifts in and out of consciousness. He remembers seeing Odysseus knock Hector’s spear away so he does not strike again. He remembers a Trojan soldier trying to drag him away, but being cut down by Ajax the greater. And he remembers Menelaus carrying him back toward the beach.

He wakes as they reach the physicians tent, where he has spent so much time trying to keep his comrades alive. He knows they won’t be able to return the favor. The wound is too deep, already infected, and he’s lost too much blood. Machaon tries his best anyway.

Suddenly, Achilles bursts into the tent, long golden hair glowing in the sun’s dying rays. He freezes when he sees Patroclus, eyes wide and swimming with horror, guilt, anger, and pain. He all but collapses at his bedside.

“C-chill’s,” Patroclus slurs, eyes blurry but looking up at his lover like he personally hung the moon in the sky. 

“Patroclus,” Achilles sobs, voice breaking but still pronouncing it with its usual annunciation, the way Patroclus loves. “Who...who did this!?” His voice pitches high with anger as green eyes begin to drip with grief.

“‘Ector.” Achilles hand tightens in his.

“ I will kill him.” Achilles voice is low and rough with emotion, leaving no room for argument, but Patroclus reaches a shaking hand to caress his lovers cheek.

“Y’mustn’,” he whispers, eyelids fluttering. Blood pools beneath him. “Proph’cy...”

“Damn the prophecy!” Achilles yells, and Patroclus flinches a little. Immediately the prince of Pthia is apologizing and running his long fingers through his lovers dark hair. 

Patroclus manages a soft smile. “ I love you.”

Achilles tries to muster up a smile, but he’s sure it is a grimace. Tears stream down his face, falling onto Patroclus’ pale countenance. “ I love you to the ends of the earth.”

At this, Patroclus sighs happily. His body goes lax. He does not inhale again. 

Achilles screams.


End file.
